The Confession (25 page)

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We stayed like that a long time, too tired to move even if we'd wanted to.

“You're going to have to carry me to the kitchen,” I said.

His response was hard to make out, but it sounded like he was accusing me of trying to kill him. I smiled. But when I tried to push back, my arms felt like lead.

“In a minute,” he mumbled. And then he looked up at me with a lopsided smile. “Hungry?”

“I just did the equivalent of one hundred and seventy-five pull-ups, so yes.”

“We have dessert.”

“We do?” I rolled off the side in the most ungraceful manner possible. He chuckled.

When I was able, I put on his button-up shirt and went to clean up. I returned to the kitchen to find him standing at the counter with a giant chocolate cake. A candle stuck out of the center of it, and its soft glow flickered off the dimly lit walls.

“Happy birthday, Anna,” he said.

I gave him a puzzled look. “It's not my birthday.” He knew this. My birthday was in May, the day he'd gotten out of jail.

“I'm a little late,” he said with a shrug. How someone could be a sex god one minute and absolutely adorable the next completely baffled me.

“How'd you even get this in here?” I asked.

“I brought it up when you were talking to your dad.” He scratched one hand over his head, then sat on one of the stools.

I laughed. “Why?”

“I've messed up a lot of things. Everything, actually.”

The playful energy between us grew heavy.

“No more apologies,” I said, taking a step closer.

“No.” He shook his head. “Just . . . thank you.”

That sadness slipped over him again, just for a moment before he smiled it away. I didn't want him to hurt anymore. I moved between his knees and kissed him on the nose.

“You're going to sing, right?”

“Sing?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It's my birthday.”

He cleared his throat. “You asked for it.”

Alec turned out to be a terrible singer, which was delightful to me since he was so damn good at everything else. We passed on plates and dug into the cake with forks, and after the sugar buzz set it, we smeared frosting over each other's bodies and then licked it off.

Some time later we found ourselves in the shower. We used every drop of hot water, and then tumbled out in a wet tangle, laughing uncontrollably.

Before we fell asleep, we made love one final time. Right before he came he told me he loved me, and for one gripping moment before my thoughts scattered, I wondered if he'd actually meant good-bye.

I
woke to a gray morning, with just enough sunlight in the room to tempt me into falling back to sleep. My fingers stretched over the rumpled sheets while my legs extended, leading me to give a satisfied little groan. But any hopes I'd had of curling up against a hard, warm body dissipated as I reached the end of the mattress.

My eyes opened, confirming my suspicions. Alec wasn't in the room, and as I listened, I couldn't hear him in the kitchen either. I snatched a blanket off the floor and threw it over my shoulders. He'd told me he would be here when I woke up. He wasn't needed in court at all today.

The kitchen was clean; no evidence of our chocolate frosting wars. Something pulled me toward the veranda, and when I looked outside the sliding glass doors, my heart settled. He was standing on the beach below the restaurant's deck, feet in the surf, slinging rocks out into the waves.

I watched him as the minutes ticked by, unable to look away. His back rounded with each throw. His hair was tossed around in the breeze. There was something about him that was utterly hypnotizing, and by the time I realized what I was doing, I was too late to curb my thoughts.

I wanted to watch him for the rest of my life.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd thought it would be. Living with Alec wouldn't be easy, but neither of us would probably know what to do if it was. He was stubborn, I was flighty, and we loved each other, simple as that.

“Damn,” I muttered, smiling to myself.

Just when I was starting to get a handle on things, he pulled the rug out again. Only this time, he probably didn't even know he had. Stupid man was messing with me without even trying now.

Searching for a little summer dress and flip-flops, I went down the stairs to meet him. Each step closer made me feel lighter. Just being near him made me happy.

He turned when he saw me approach, and when his gaze lowered to my legs, I did a quick spin to give him a better look.

“Hey,” I said, and lifted on my tiptoes to give him a kiss.

He didn't kiss me back.

He turned back to the water, and threw another rock, this time with enough force to rip a hole through the ozone.

A weight descended on my shoulders.

“Um . . . is everything all right?”

“You're a bed hog,” he said. “You're four feet tall and you take up three-quarters of a queen-sized bed.”

Four feet? Try five-four. I crossed my arms over my chest as he picked up another handful of rocks and began to toss them.

“And you have an enormous amount of girl
stuff
crowding the bathroom counter.”

Just a few products. And a blow-dryer. And okay, maybe some makeup and brushes. But in my defense it was a tiny bathroom. I thought it better not to mention that this was only about a third of the
stuff
I regularly used. The rest of it was still at my apartment.

“And?” Clearly I'd done something to annoy him. He might as well let it all spill now.

He threw another rock. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple, and he wiped it away on his shoulder.

“And,”
he said, really heaving the next one, “the thought of not seeing you every day is breaking my fucking heart.”

He'd run out of rocks.

I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.

“What's going on?” I asked.

He stared out over the water. “I'm not going to testify against Max.”

My hand fell.

The water splashed over my toes, and as the wave retreated I could feel the suction of the sand on my feet.

“What are you talking about?”

He wouldn't look at me.

“You have to testify,” I said. “If you don't, you'll go to jail.” That was the deal. He'd struck a bargain with the district attorney. If he testified, all charges against him would be dropped. He'd serve three months in the penitentiary, and play ball with the FBI, and this mess would eventually go away.

The thought of not seeing you every day is breaking my heart.

His moodiness over the past couple of days began to make sense.

“Dinner last night, and you and me after . . .” The way he'd held me too tight, and gotten me a birthday cake, and made love to me like it was the last time. He'd known our time was ticking. “Was that just some elaborate good-bye?”

“I love you, Anna.”

I pulled my shoulders back to make more room to breathe.

“No,” I said. “You're giving your testimony. You're sending Maxim Stein to prison, otherwise none of what we've been through matters.”

“He'll keep using you against me.”

“Not if you send him away!” I pulled my feet from the sand and positioned myself in front of him. “If we win this trial, he'll have nothing. No company, no money, no collateral. He won't be able to pay people to hurt us. It'll be over.”

He met my eyes, the pain in them so deep I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

“I can't take that risk,” he said.

“You already have,” I said, gritting my teeth. “And we've shown him that we can survive anything he throws at us.”

“He'll release the pictures. They'll be all over the news.”

“I don't care!” I planted my hands on his chest and pushed, but his feet were stuck in the sand, too, and he nearly stumbled before he caught himself. “They're just pictures.”

I did care, of course, but if it meant keeping Alec, I'd submit them to the papers myself.

“Pictures he hurt you to get,” he said. “Next time it'll be worse, Anna. This was the last warning.”

His voice was so calm, so even. Like he'd already made up his mind.

“You don't get to make this decision without me,” I said, feeling a twinge of desperation.

“It's done.”

I swallowed the sob. He lifted his hand, as if to touch my face, but I backed up.

“I told my lawyer two days ago. Chances were slim I could put him away anyway. None of the names I gave corroborated my story—he's already paid them all off. Jessica Rowe is gone, who knows what he did to her. And there's nothing besides that car in Miami, and Janelle told me yesterday she can't pull a number off the plate. There's no reason to keep putting you in danger.”

I was crying now. The wind whipped my hair in front of my face, and it stuck to my damp cheeks. I shoved it back.

“That's why Matt hasn't come back.”

He nodded grimly. “The FBI doesn't have to protect me anymore. Your pal Marcos has agreed to keep an eye out. Even after I'm gone.”

This wasn't happening. This
couldn't
happen. Not after I'd only tasted our future. But the look on his face was set.

“You did this for me,” I said. “You went to the FBI for me. If you hadn't . . .”

I was the reason he was going to jail. Because he'd wanted to do the right thing to be worthy of me.

“I'm doing this for you, too,” he said gently. “I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner. I thought we could win.”

I covered my eyes with the heels of my hands. All those things I'd seen, those things I'd finally let myself want, were slipping away.

“You can't give up,” I said. “I won't let you give up.”

He reached for me then, hands cupping my elbows. He kissed my forehead.

“I have to turn myself in tomorrow. You should go home to Cincinnati with your dad until all this clears. I talked to him an hour ago. He's already arranged for a protective detail.”

It felt like the ground beneath my feet was giving way.

“Cincinnati isn't my home,” I said. “Where you are—
that's
my home.”

His head fell forward, his hair falling over his eyes.

“Anna, I had you longer than I was meant to.”

I stepped back.

“Then you're a coward.”

She said I was a coward if I didn't figure out a way to make it work.
My father's voice rang through my head.

His eyes darkened.

“Do you love me or not?” I asked.

“You know I do.”

“Then fight for me.”

His gaze narrowed. “I am.”

“Fight to
be
with me,” I said. “Fight to
stay
with me.”

Another wave hit the back of my calves. The tide was rising, the water stronger than before.

“Are you hearing me?” I asked. “Maybe I'm a bed hog, but you steal the covers. And you're a terrible singer. And you are hands down the most stubborn man I've ever known, but I love you and I'm
going
to love you the rest of my life. And you can't just do that to a person and then cut them loose.”

“You think this is cutting you loose?” he snapped, his cool composure finally breaking. “I don't know how many times I have to tell you, you're it for me.”

“Then don't let me go.”

All the pieces that had scattered suddenly aligned with surprising clarity. I saw it again, as I'd seen it last night. A table surrounded by our friends. Alec's hand in mine. The way his hair would gray around the temples, like his father. Year after year of conversations, and arguments, and
kids
we would love together.

“I'm going away,” he said, uncertainty thinning his voice. “And not just for three months.
Years
, Anna.”

I felt like I was standing at the edge of a precipice. Alec facing prison scared the hell out of me, not just because I'd be alone, but because of the danger he faced when he walked through those gates.

“I know what we're facing.”
Goliath.
And we barely had a slingshot. Maxim Stein's lawyers were the best money could buy, and all we had were Alec's truths.

He tilted his head.

“You'd wait for me.” It wasn't a question; it was a baffled accusation, at best.

I snorted. And then I giggled. And then I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You'd
marry
me.” He looked like I'd just told him I was part mermaid.

“That depends if you're asking.”

Again, I felt that shift between us. Something was changing. Something important, that would forever alter the course of our lives.

And for once, I welcomed it.

“I've literally got nothing to offer you. Even if we win and I get the company, it won't be worth anything.”

I laughed. Was this the Middle Ages? I didn't need a dowry and three goats.

“I'll have you,” I said. “That's all I want.”

It took him a while to process this.

“That's all I want,” he said finally.

“Well?”

He scratched his head. “Look, if you're fucking with me . . .”

I jumped into his arms. “Yes. Yes, yes,
yes
.” I kissed his cheek. “I mean, no, I'm not fucking with you. Yes to the other thing.”

He laughed, still confused. And then he lifted me higher and squeezed me so tightly I coughed because he was crushing my lungs.

“Yes?” he asked.

“On one condition.”

“Anything you want.”

“You testify. And we see how this plays out.”

He froze, then set me down.

“Anna.”

“That's my condition.”

He shook his head, then bit his upper lip.

“You know I can't say no to you.”

“Especially now.” I smiled.

He gave a dry laugh. “I'm screwed, aren't I?”

“You're
so
screwed.”

He kissed me then, and there wasn't even a hint of sadness within him. There was only pure, unfiltered joy, and when I wrapped my arms around his neck, he picked me up, and I thought,
This moment right now. This is the best of all of them, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

And then we were laughing, and spinning, and he was chasing me as I ran back toward the stairs that led to the apartment above the restaurant. He caught me before we reached the top and kissed me until the world tilted sideways. I barely escaped before he took me right there under the cloudy sky.

We almost didn't make it inside. As soon as he kicked the door shut, my hands were yanking on his belt and his were pulling the sundress over my head. It caught halfway over my shoulder, and he tripped on his pants, and we crashed to the floor, drunk on each other, and our doomed future, and the love we would risk our lives for.

He pushed into me slowly, and when he settled between my legs I smiled, and kissed him with the same tenderness he showed my body.

“Ask me,” I whispered, as he found that pace I loved.

He looked into my eyes. “Marry me, Anna.”

“Yes,” I said. And as he moved deeper I said it again, and again, and again.